


Soft Power

by SophieHatter



Series: 100 Kinks [9]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: #61 Dom/sub, 100 kinks, Anal Fingering, Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, I Called Him Sir Challenge, Kinks, Merry Ficmas 2018, Military Uniforms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Play, Safe Sane and Consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-09-12 22:36:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16880529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophieHatter/pseuds/SophieHatter
Summary: 100 Kinks: 61. Dom/subOn a routine visit to DC, Colonel Samantha Carter is invited to dinner by Major General Jack O’Neill. Wary of the DC power games that she was glad to leave behind, she finds herself being pulled into a power game of a different kind.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sarah_M](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah_M/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, you’ll find this to be a Dom/sub story with power play and dubious consent elements in the fantasy that Jack and Sam have chosen to play out. 
> 
> Although not immediately obvious, Sam has consented to Jack’s actions and they are playing out a scene/fantasy. 
> 
> I hope that you enjoy this story, but I f BDSM is not your thing, then please give this story a miss. 
> 
> —-
> 
> Many thanks to Sarah_M for being my partner in crime and enabler. This was her request:
> 
> _Sam/Jack smut fic? Heavy on the smut. With a side of D/s undertones. Including dirty talk - of the 'Colonel/Sir/Major' variety. Dress uniforms are appreciated (really, really appreciated)._
> 
> \- SH

Colonel Samantha Carter looked down at the budget projection spreadsheets in front of her for the fourth time in 15 minutes. She added the figures up in her head again, just for something to do to stay awake. Making a note in the margin, she cast a surreptitious glance around the table to see who else might be bored to tears by this quarterly Pentagon budget torture.

This was her third such meeting since taking charge of the construction of the next 304 class ship, currently called the Phoenix, and many of the faces were familiar to her. Most were dutifully hiding their boredom or, like her, were trying to save themselves from lapsing into somnolence by doodling or writing.

Across from her, another uniformed officer caught her eye with his movement and she searched his uniform for identifying insignia. Ahh, Major General O’Neill. As she pondered what he might be doing to pass the time, his eyes raised from the papers in front of him to meet hers. Quickly, she tried to draw her eyes away but they slid right back, because she’d seen something. Something that caught her attention and required a second look.

The General was leaning on the heel of his hand, fingers resting on his chin. Except for his pinkie, which was pressing into his bottom lip. No, not his lip, into his mouth, splitting his lips in a way that made him look hungry ...

He couldn’t be. Oh dear god, he was. His tongue touched the tip of his finger while he looked right at her.

She was seated at a conference table in the Pentagon D ring and a 2 Star was making a pass at her. It never freaking stopped. These macho a-holes always thought that the blonde hair and Class As meant that she was theirs, ripe for the taking.

Turning her chair towards the speaker, and away from further chances of meeting the Major General’s eyes, she tried to focus on the remainder of the budget discussion. Part of her wanted this to be over with as soon as possible - she had a lot more to get done today. The other part of her wanted to know if the General was still looking at her like he knew how she would taste.

 

* * *

 

The personnel assembled for the meeting were dismissed and Sam packed up her papers, sliding them into her briefcase. She exchanged pleasantries as hastily as it was possible to do so and made for the conference room door. Sam could feel his eyes following her as she left but she had the advantage of being on the door side of the room. General O’Neill had a table and six other officers to navigate.

At the door, she chanced a look back and their eyes met, a hot bolt of lust driving into her core. Smothering a gasp, Sam turned quickly and hurried away, hoping to the heavens that no one else had seen. There would have been no mistaking the flash of arousal that had run through her.

It was unfortunate, but as their programs aligned, and were therefore housed near each other at the Pentagon, it seemed likely she would run into the General again before her day was complete. Her nerves were tingling, her body on edge surging with adrenaline each time she needed to navigate the hallways and corridors.

Once, Sam nearly had to pass him, but she was able to slip into the women’s bathroom and wait until he had passed. Then, when she arrived at her last meeting for the day, her stomach twisted in anticipation when she spotted the General’s name on the meeting agenda. As the meeting attendees arrived, she found herself turning towards the door each time, looking to see if it was him. When the meeting chair got things underway, she was puzzled, until General O’Neill’s apologies were tendered. He’d had to attend to an emergency.

Sam found herself both relieved and disappointed. This was Friday, her last working day in DC. She was staying in town for the weekend to see a friend and then returning to Cheyenne Mountain first thing on Monday. As the Pentagon boredom torture continued, Sam found herself wondering why not seeing the General again had left her feeling disappointed. 


	2. Chapter 2

The last meeting of the day had run over, as they so often did, and Sam stepped out into a late fall afternoon already growing cool. It was a pleasant stroll to the nearest taxi rank, one she was familiar with from the two years she had spent working at the Pentagon and living in DC. There were just a few people around, heading to or from the same destination. It seemed that other personnel were smart enough not to schedule a late meeting on a Friday.

The taxi rank was in sight when a sleek, motor pool limousine pulled up just ahead of her and the passenger side door opened. When the tall, silver haired figure of Major General O’Neill stepped out on to the pavement, Sam stopped in surprise and then looked quickly around for another path or, ridiculously, cover. She wasn’t armed and he was a superior officer. Then she steeled herself. They were in the open, General O’Neill would have a driver, there were people walking all around them. Surely the General wouldn’t dare to make a scene.

“Colonel Carter, a moment, please,” he called to her as she came within a few metres of him.

“General O’Neill, Sir.” Sam stood to attention and saluted him as she waited to see what he needed.

“I’m afraid that I was called away on an emergency this afternoon and I was unable to attend our last meeting. I’d like you to go over the details with me.” General O’Neill gestured towards the open door of his car.

“Now, Sir?” Sam asked. “I was on my way to a friend’s.” She cast around her again. She was on thin ice, here, torn between disobeying an order and possibly putting herself in an awkward situation. Her heart rate began to increase and she breathed through the sudden rush of adrenaline.

“Well, then, perfect. We can give you a lift, Colonel.” The General was wearing mirrored aviator sunglasses, making his intent difficult to read.

“Why me, Sir? Surely one of the fleet liaisons could cover the details for you next week.” It was taking all of her self control not to step back and away.

“Are you not leading the project, Colonel? Who would be more qualified than you?” As her eyes cast uncertainly into the car’s interior and back to the General, he spoke again, putting steel into his words, “Shall I make it an order, Colonel Carter?”

Years approaching decades of subordination to her superiors was the only thing that made her get in the car. Sam stepped into the interior, sliding across the seat, then reached back to the General for her overnight bag. As he handed it to her, the General’s thumb brushed across her knuckles in an intimate and familiar gesture and she knew what he was asking.

_Everything ok?_

Sam turned her hand into his and squeezed. _All good_.

The General pulled the door closed and then thumbed the intercom. “Thank you, Major,” and the car began to move.

“Umm, I haven’t told you where my friend lives, Sir,” Colonel Carter pointed out, “Where are we going?”

“It’s late, Colonel, and I missed lunch thanks to that emergency. You can brief me while we eat dinner, I’ve booked a private table.” The General appeared to be confident that she would just go along with his whims now that she was in his car.

Sam squirmed uneasily in her seat and looked around the interior. Technically, General O’Neill hadn’t violated any regulations, he wasn’t even alone with her in the car - his driver was up front. Still, under it all was that look he’d given her today and she had been sure she’d seen the tip of his tongue when she had met his eyes across the table. Suddenly, she remembered that she had friends and colleagues in DC.

“I, uh, my friend will be expecting me, Sir. It would be rude of me to be late.” Sam turned her head to the right, watching the General from the corner of her eye. At the meeting today, she hadn’t been able to see his legs, but here, in the back of his car, encased in Air Force regulation blue serge, they appeared long and powerful.

“Colonel Carter, I know as well as you do that you are a workaholic. I can’t imagine that anyone who knows you is unaware of this fact. Why don’t you let your friend know that you’re working late and will be there later? We can drive you there after dinner.”

Reasonable. It was a reasonable suggestion. Reaching for her phone, Sam keyed in a quick text message.

_Been looking forward to seeing you all day. Going to dinner. Talk soon. - S_

She glanced briefly at General O’Neill, who was staring into his own phone, probably checking emails, and then hit send. Sam looked out the window as they were passing the river, the last rays of sun reflecting off its surface. Buzzing, her phone drew her attention away from the scenery. There was a return message.

_I’ve missed you. Don’t worry about dinner, we’ve got the whole weekend together. - J_

Letting the phone snap shut, she adjusted the fit of her skirt as she slipped the phone back in its pocket. Pulling her skirt smooth again, Sam caught the General openly staring at her hand by her knee. Stopping her adjustments, Sam laid her sweaty palm on her thigh, instinctively turning her knees away.

Since leaving DC, Sam didn’t wear her Class As all that often. She had forgotten how some men seemed fascinated with the female uniform. It made her belly flutter a little that the General was admiring her. Quickly, she squashed that feeling. She needed to work with this man. Making good on the offer in his eyes, and his mouth, could cause problems for them both, of the worser kind for her.

The car came to a stop a few minutes later and the General stepped out, then held his hand out to her. She took it and then looked up at the two story restaurant in front of her. The balcony of _Celia’s_ was full of lush planters and strung lights, diners already seated at the tables. Through _Celia’s_ ground floor windows, she could see an elegant, softly lit interior.

With a start, Sam realised that she was still holding the General’s hand. Snatching hers away, she scowled at the superior look he gave her and turned her eyes back to the restaurant. “This is where you’re coming for dinner, Sir?”

“No, Colonel,” and the way he spoke her title, rumbling and intimate, sent a frisson of heat to her centre. “This is where _we_ are having dinner.”

Sam goggled as the General motioned for her to precede him. The maître de sized them both up, and obviously familiar with rank insignia, turned to the man beside her.

“General O’Neill. How good to see you, Sir. This way, if you please.”

Ok, so maybe they were familiar with this actual General. They were escorted to the first floor and out on to the balcony. The General seemed to know where he was going as he followed unerringly. Sam saw that the balcony was glass enclosed so that it could be used year round. At the far end, the maître de opened a glass door and ushered them inside, helping Sam to take her seat, sitting her beside the General, the corner of the table between them.

“Thank you,” she told the man and he nodded to her in return.

“You’re welcome, Colonel. General O’Neill, your usual, Sir?”

“Yes, thank you, Victor.”

“And the Colonel?”

Sam noticed that Victor was asking the General and not her.

“A vodka martini with lemon.”

“Very good. Thank you, Sir.”

And the General wasn’t going to ask her, either. Lips pressed together, Sam let out a slow breath. Forced to come to dinner and not even given a choice in what she drank? Any heat that had been generated by his words and touch turned to ice.

Then, he opened the menu that had been placed in front of him and Sam looked around for hers. She looked again. There was no second menu.

“Sir? I’m sorry. I thought you said that we were both having dinner.” The General raised his eyebrow at her, so she went on, “There’s been a mistake, Sir. I don’t seem to have been given a menu.”

Recognition showed on his face and then his eyes sparkled. “You’re incorrect, Colonel. There is no mistake.”

Samantha squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. When she’d lived in DC, _Celia’s_ had an excellent reputation for delicious food - and discretion. Many of the higher ranked members of the government and military dined here, with their colleagues, lobbyists, wives and mistresses. Was that his intent? Was dinner going to be followed with the expectation of something of a more private nature?

As she pondered, a waiter served their drinks. The martini for her and a scotch, neat, for him. Sam didn’t need to see the bill to know that his drink was top shelf.

“Are you ready to order, Sir?” The waiter asked.

“We’ll both have the Spaghetti Alla Chitarra. I would like the Veal Ribeye, well done, and the Colonel will have the Dry Aged Duck Breast.”

“Certainly, Sir. Would you also care to order dessert now?”

Sam was impressed, the waiter was memorising the General’s order without writing anything down.

“Thank you, but I’ll consider that later.” Closing the menu, the waiter took it carefully.

“Would you like to order wine to have with your main course, Sir?”

The General shook his head. “No, thank you. We would like some filtered water, however.”

“Of course. Thank you, Sir.”

The door closed soundlessly behind the waiter and the General turned to Sam. “Aren’t you going to try your drink?” He took a sip of his own, watching her over the rim of the glass.

Ordering her own hand not to tremble, Sam reached for the glass and sipped. The General seemed to expect her to say something, so she said, “It’s well made, Sir.”

His eyes narrowed, a hardness coming into his expression that made her want to writhe with the tension it conjured between her legs. “Thank you would be appropriate, don’t you think, Colonel?”

Sam sat up straighter. “My apologies, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

Graciously nodding, the General leant back in his seat. “Well, Colonel, let’s get down to business. Please bring me up to speed on the _Phoenix_ project.”

As she went back over the information that she had shared in the earlier meeting, Sam began to relax. Without thinking, she sipped at her martini as talking made her mouth dry. The General was surprisingly engaged in her report, he didn’t look the type to get down in the details. He asked intelligent questions about the continuing integration of Asgard technology and how far the development team had progressed in understanding the Asgard database.

Sam found herself reassessing the man beside her, trying to recall his service record. He’d been deployed in many combat situations and the board of ribbons on his chest noted that he’d been awarded the Air Medal, twice. So he was more than a Pentagon bureaucrat.

They paused their conversation when their first course was served. Then Sam started as she felt the touch of the smooth toe leather of a shoe caressing her ankle and moving towards her calf. Unable to say anything with the waiter in the room, she stilled her face, unwilling to betray what was happening below the tablecloth.

The General’s expression remained smooth and emotionless. He thanked the waiter and then urged her to eat as they were left alone. The touch on her ankle disappeared and he prompted her to resume their discussion of the progress of the _Phoenix_.

As she became engaged in the discussion with him, again, she felt an unexpected touch on her knee. As fingers brushed over the fabric of her skirt and then slid along the top of her thigh, Sam faltered and her eyes scanned the room and then the other patrons, beyond the glass walls.

“No one can hear us, Colonel, but they can certainly see. Wouldn’t do for others to get the idea that you were trying to curry favours with a superior officer.” With a soft pat on her thigh, the General resumed eating his pasta.

Her heart racing, all Sam could do was nod in reply. Of all the things that she thought might happen that evening, someone seeing her with the General and some sort of rumour starting was her worst fear. With a gulp of her martini, she looked at her plate and spoke, “Respectfully, Sir, I would prefer to finish what we are here for and then go home. To my friend’s.”

The General paused before speaking. “Look at me, Colonel.” When Sam hesitated, he cleared his throat in a clear gesture of warning.

Sam complied, reluctantly.

“If you haven’t yet understood how this evening will proceed, let me make this clear. You have no say in what happens to you while you are in my presence. Understand?” His hand was back on her knee, this time with his fingertips edging under the fabric of her skirt.

Sam gulped, a sudden surge of wetness released between her thighs, causing her to close her eyes.

His fingers slid higher, fluttering at the sensitive inner skin of her thigh. “Colonel?” The General prompted.

Forcing her eyes open, Sam hoped against hope that he couldn’t see what effect his touch was having on her. She took a breath, the better to steady her voice, before speaking, “Yes, Sir.”

For a moment, his touch drew tantalisingly close to the apex of her thighs and then the General squeezed and drew away. “Well done, Colonel. You may continue.”

Sam took and swallowed a mouthful of the pasta, which was indeed as good as everyone had said it would be, before she felt her voice was settled enough to continue. “At the next meeting, I will be able to present the plan for pre-launch testing.”

The General nodded, sipping at his drink, his pasta finished. He looked to be attentively listening, but Sam couldn’t help but notice that his eyes kept trailing down from her face the front of her jacket, stopping just below her ribbon board. Her nipples grew increasingly firm under his scrutiny and she found it hard to ignore the growing tightness of her breasts.

Reaching for her drink as cover, Sam pressed her elbow into the side of her breast in an attempt to relieve some of the tension. The General, whose eyes never wavered, brushed his tongue discreetly over his bottom lip as she looked back to him, waiting for him to comment on her last statement.

His gesture took Sam back to their earlier meeting. Had he been thinking about her body, then? Her breasts? Her thighs? About what it might take for him to see those parts of her for himself? The uncontrollable heat of a flush began under her blouse, soon reaching the neck of her button down shirt.

“I’m sorry, Colonel, is it too hot for you in here?” He asked, his eyes following the blush as it spread higher and then slowly, deliberately returning his gaze to her chest. “Would you like to remove your jacket?”

Just then, the door opened and the waiter came to remove their plates. Sam drank half a glass of chilled water and breathed slowly, letting the flush recede and attempting to get the tightly wound arousal in her abdomen to dissipate.

Returning with their main courses, the waiter placed hers down and Sam felt a moment of grateful relief that the General’s hand did not return to her thigh a third time. That short lived feeling was banished as he shifted for the waiter to put down his plate and the smooth leather of the toe of his shoe caressed the inside of her calf again.

The duck he had selected for her was truly splendid and Sam did her best to keep her eyes on her food as the toe of the General’s shoe climbed higher up her calf. It felt to her that he was trying to provoke a reaction, so she determined not to give him one at all. With him touching her, that also meant that any action that she might take to relieve the intense pressure on her swollen labia would reveal just what kind of reaction his attentions were causing.

It was pointless, Sam realised halfway through the course. The General's posture was relaxed and his eyes were clearly amused at her attempts to control her reactions. He continued to ask her questions that became harder and harder to answer. Sam hurried to finish her meal in the hope that they would be able to leave all the sooner.

When their plates were cleared away, the waiter asked if they would like to order dessert. As Sam silently prayed that the General would decline, he instead ordered for them both. When the waiter left the room, Sam was stunned to realise that she hadn’t been able to voice a single protest against the General ordering for her all night.

“I’d rather that we left, Sir. I think our discussion has covered all the relevant details and I will take your suggestions back to my team on Monday.” She stared straight at him, as if daring him to discipline her.

There was a moment, while he sipped the last of his scotch, where Sam thought that she might have convinced the General of her determination. His foot moved from her calf and she felt rising triumph, but then his hand was back on her knee as he leaned close to her across the corner of the table.

Without hesitation, his hand slid upwards, under her skirt. “I’ll remind you, Colonel, that I decide what happens tonight, and when.” She felt the General’s index finger press against her underwear, just parting her lips. As his finger moved upwards, he found her already swollen clit under the fabric and flicked it with his nail. Electricity raced through her nervous system making her gasp involuntarily.

The General removed his hand with a smug smile and leaned back in his seat. As if he were thinking, he brought the fingers that had just been between her legs to his lips and made sure that Sam saw him breathing in her scent. Then there was the smallest swipe of his tongue that sampled her taste. Darn her body’s reactions, disclosing how he made her feel and adding, as she watched him, even more moisture to the place between her thighs.

“Colonel?” He prompted.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Yes, Sir? In regards to what?”

“You decide what happens tonight, Sir,” and Sam found her stomach churning as she acknowledged his authority, but she was unable to look away whilst he was still smelling her and so obviously enjoying it.

“How lovely, Colonel Carter,” and, with a final flick of his tongue, the General shifted in his seat. It was clear to Sam just what he was complimenting.

She nearly jumped as dessert was placed before her and it occurred to Sam that that was why the General had moved. Things were getting out of control if she was losing track of her surroundings.

Her dessert was a work of art and she stared at it as her mind raced through the options. After the meal, she could excuse herself and hail a cab.

Then, Sam had a sinking feeling as she remembered that she’d left her overnight bag in the General’s car. Part of her wanted to leave it there and call his office on Monday, but she realised that it contained her laptop and items of a personal nature that she had brought with her for the weekend.

“What’s on your mind, Samantha? Is something worrying you?” The General had started on his dessert and she realised that she was behind.

Picking up her fork, she gathered her courage. “It is appropriate to address me by my rank, Sir, not my first name.”

“Is that right, Colonel Carter?” The way the gravelly words rolled out of the General’s mouth made it hard for her to swallow.

“Thank you, Sir,” she responded and then turned towards him. “I would appreciate it if you would take me to my friend’s when we are finished, Sir. I can give you the address for your driver.”

“Go right ahead, Colonel.”

He had conceded to that too easily but Sam couldn’t see a way around it without following through on her request. She reached into her pocket for her phone. “Shall I text it to you, Sir?”

“How about you text it to my driver and let him know that we will be ready in 15 minutes.” When she hesitated, General O’Neill urged her on and gave her the Major’s number.

Sam considered what to say in the text; this might be her lifeline. After a moment more of consideration, she typed.

_This is Colonel Carter on behalf of General O’Neill. Please collect him from outside Celia’s in 15 minutes. We will be travelling to the following address._

After hitting send on the first message, Sam typed in her destination address and hit send again.

The General waited and then Sam received confirmation. “All is well?” He asked.

“Yes, Sir,” Sam confirmed and she returned to her dessert.

For the last few minutes of their meal, the General discussed her plans for the future. Sam kept the conversation tightly to the objectives on her advancement plan, knowing that he would have access to that information if he cared to check. She was wary to elaborate anything further as this conversation could already be construed, in the wrong circumstances, as offering advancement in return for her ‘private’ company.

As the dessert plates were removed and the General paid the bill, Sam felt her anxiety ratcheting up, again. As they left the restaurant, he placed his hand in the small of her back. It was a platonic gesture, especially given the General’s apparent age, but the warmth of his hand and the gentle pressure reminded her that it had been far too long since she had been touched with such intimate familiarity by a man.

The raging heat between her legs, and its accompanying wetness, told Sam that her body found the General arousing enough. He was clearly interested in her and he exuded a commanding sexuality that promised a very satisfying evening.

But what if he thought he was now entitled to her body because he’d bought her dinner? The thought made the feminist in her rankle and she steeled herself to turn down his attentions, with force, if necessary.


	3. Chapter 3

Waiting at the curb was the General’s car and the General’s driver stepped out of it as they approached. The young officer opened the door for her and Sam stepped inside while the General paused and had a brief exchange with the Major. Then the General sat down beside her on the back seat and the door closed.

If it hadn’t been for the tension holding her spine stiff, Sam would have sunk back into the comfortable leather seats. The day had been heaped with tedium and tension in equal measure and now she was looking forward to getting out of her Class As and relaxing under a hot shower.

Silent, until the car began to move, the General turned to Sam, his body relaxed. “Did you enjoy dinner, Colonel?”

“Thank you, Sir, the food was excellent. I’ve always wanted to have dinner at _Celia’s_.” Sam hoped that they could keep the small talk going for the fifteen minutes it would take for the journey.

“You did seem to enjoy it,” the General observed, rubbing the fingers that had stroked her sodden underwear beneath his nose. “Was it just the food?”

“Sir, I -“ Sam stammered and turned her head to look out the window. “It would be inappropriate, Sir.”

The General slid across the leather seat, until the smell of him filled her senses. “What would be inappropriate, Colonel Carter?”

There was that low tone again that was inexorably wearing down her will. Sam attempted to steady her racing pulse with a slow exhale before she answered. “If anything of a personal nature were to happen, Sir.”

The General leant back against the seat, crossing his legs, resting his arm casually on the seat back. “It’s a little shocking, Colonel, that you have assumed that my interest was of a personal nature.” The General brushed her leg with the toe of his shoe, stroking the back of Sam’s calf. “I wonder what would give you those ideas.”

“Sir,” her voice trembled, “I, I saw you today, in the budget meeting. You were looking at me.”

“Really?” The General seemed surprised. “I look at everyone I speak to in meetings. And, yet, you are the only one of them in my car.”

Sam nervously began to clarify; facts and knowledge and explaining things was her refuge. “You looked at me differently, Sir. You seemed ... hungry,” her voice faltered on the last word.

“Hungry? What was I hungry for, Colonel?” The General hooked his foot more firmly around Sam’s calf and drew it toward him, parting her legs.

She had become fixated on her knees, the way they were cooperating without the consent of her brain, opening for him, for General O’Neill.

With his middle finger, the General reached for her knee, running his nail along the edge of her skirt, dragging it across her skin. “Colonel Carter?” he prompted.

It felt like her chest was swelling with air as Sam tried to hold back her answer, but it was tell him or suffocate in her own arousal. “Me, Sir.”

“Perceptive, Colonel. How does it feel to know that I want to taste you?” His long fingers curved over her thigh, drawing circles on the inside of her knee.

Wishing she could look away, Sam felt her leg tremble under his touch. “It ... arouses me, Sir.”

“Yes, yes it does.”

His firm caress moved further up her thigh, taking her skirt with it. It surprised her to find his touch was both gentle and imbued with strength. It was as if the General was conscious of his physical power but held it tightly in check. For a moment, Sam wondered what it might feel like to be touched by him if that control was released

“And if I told you that while others were discussing the quarterly budget, I was imagining what it would feel like to touch you, to stroke your thigh, to find your centre and taste you on my tongue.” The General’s hand reached her upper thigh, his fingers rhythmically caressing her skin.

Sucking in her bottom lip, Sam tried to smother a whimper as she felt the last of her resolve shred, “Sir, please.”

“What are you asking for, Colonel Carter? Would you like me to stop, or to run my fingers over your panties and taste you again?” The General stilled his fingers as he waited for her answer.

Sam raised her eyes to the partition behind the front seats. If she gasped or screamed when he touched her, would his driver hear?

The General followed her gaze and answered her question. “Soundproof and, for the moment, opaque.”

Wrestling with her answer, Sam’s eyes fell closed and she gave her response in a voice so soft that it was almost a whisper. “Sir, General, please. Touch me.”

“Well done, Colonel,” the General told her as he squeezed her thigh and tugged her skirt back into place. “But, do you remember our conversation in the restaurant? I decide what happens to you, tonight.”

The moan of despair that she made as the General removed his hand embarrassed her. Colonel Doctor Samantha Carter was not the kind of woman who could be played by men in power. And yet, the voice inside had to concede, she was aroused. Reduced to pleading by dinner and nothing more than his hand on her thigh. A shiver ran through her, all her nerves alight and she wished desperately that they would reach her destination soon.

The General shifted beside her and then she felt his hand on her hair. Slowly, gently, his fingers sought the pins holding her bun in place, drawing them from her hair, gradually easing the tension in her scalp from their firm hold.

Sam found herself turning her head away, giving the General better access. His hand, her hair, brushed against the back of her neck, raising goose bumps on skin already sensitive. When he came to the band holding her ponytail in place, General O’Neill brought both hands up and eased the tight elastic from her head without pulling a hair.

It wasn’t until her hair hung loose that Sam noticed the ache the regulation hairstyle had caused at the back of her head. A hum of pure relief escaped her and the General responded by resting his hand on the back of her neck and sliding his thumb up her spine and into her hair. Muscles gave under the touch and Sam’s head drooped forward.

Knowingly, the General pushed his fingers against her scalp, sliding through her hair and Cupping the back of her skull. Sam would have moaned, if she could. Her body suddenly surrendered all of its tension and her insides turned liquid.

“Yes,” The General murmured somewhere near her. “I thought that you might be that kind of woman. Come,” and the General slid to his right and pulled her head to lie down in his lap. Pillowed on his thigh, Sam let a deep sigh escape her as his long fingers stroked her hair, methodically striving to remove all trace of tension.

Warmth spread through her and, surrounded by his musky scent, Sam closed her eyes and surrendered to his touch. 


	4. Chapter 4

The firm grip of a hand on her shoulder brought Sam suddenly awake. “Almost there,” Jack told her quietly. “You fell asleep.”

Sam blinked and then eased herself upright with Jack supporting her, letting the fog slowly clear from her mind. “It’s been a damnably long day.”

“If I could carry you inside, I would. But, you know, old guy knees.” His arm around her, Jack stroked his fingers through her hair again. “We could just take it easy, tonight.”

Sam turned her head and nuzzled his shoulder, even though the woollen fabric of his dress blues roughed the end of her nose. “No, Sir.” She answered, feeling the mantle of their play begin to return. “The General is in charge, tonight.”

Jack pressed a kiss to the top of Sam’s head and then removed his arm from around her and reached for her overnight bag. “This is your destination, Colonel. Let me walk you to the door.”

The car pulled to a stop and the General got out, reaching back with a hand to assist Colonel Carter. When she stood on the pavement, the General shut the door and tapped twice on the roof and the car drove away. In a decisive motion, he took Sam’s hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm, beginning to guide her towards the steps of the townhouse.

“Sir?” Sam asked, confused. She turned and looked at the taillights of his car as it turned the corner at the end of the street. With a feeling of growing anticipation, she turned back to the townhouse. “This isn’t where my friend lives.”

Escorting her up the stairs, hand firmly held against his side, the General juggled both their bags as he dug for his keys. “Correct, Colonel Carter. This is where I live.”

“Sir! I didn’t say that I wanted ...” Sam thought back to their conversation in the car. What had she said that she wanted?

The key finally in the lock, the General opened the door and guided her inside. Letting the door swing shut, he placed their bags at the bottom of the stairs and hung his keys on the hook by the coat rack. Then he was on her, taking her arm, turning her into him as he pushed her into the wall.

Sam squirmed, trying to slide sideways away from him, but he placed his hands against the wall, one on either side of her hips.

“Who decides what happens tonight, Colonel?” Mouth an inch from her ear, the General’s gravelly tone had her fully awake between one second and the next.

“You, Sir.” Sam was finding it hard to breathe with the way he was crowding her and the words came out faintly.

“Who, Colonel?” He asked her again, pressing his hips forcefully into hers, grinding her against the wall. Sam emitted a little squeak.

“You, Sir,” Sam repeated, trying to push back at him, only succeeding in rubbing herself against his firm erection.

His mouth was on hers in an instant, the kiss confident and relentless. It seemed to Sam as if her body had already accepted what was going to happen. Her lips opened to him before she could think about it and then her body ceased struggling and enthusiastically returned the kiss. As he felt her body acquiesce, the General softened his mouth against hers, stroking and coaxing her arousal to the surface with long passes of his tongue against hers.

Sam moaned into the General’s mouth and found her hands clutching the lapels of his jacket. Then calloused hands brushed over her thighs, guiding her skirt upwards until it was past her hips. One foot nudged at Sam’s calf until she moved in response, widening her stance. Then his fingers dragged up her inner thigh and pressed into her panties.

Rubbing his fingers slowly against her, the General pulled the thin fabric taut, and pressed the cloth between her lips with his index finger. Reluctantly, he pulled away from her mouth and put his lips so close to her ear that she felt the shape of each word. “How could you be so wet, Samantha? Is it because you are eager for me to taste you?”

 _Yes_! her mind screamed but Sam remembered his mantra just in time. “Whatever you decide, Sir.” Her chest hurt with the effort to control her breathing. The need for him was making her desperate: she wanted to push herself down on to his fingers and feel the release they would give.

“Oh,” he murmured, sounding pleased. “Maybe you are as smart as they say you are.” The General pressed deeper with the index finger between her legs, pulling the underwear tight between her cheeks and over her clit. “Smart girls get what they deserve, don’t they, Samantha?”

Hips rolling under his fingers, Sam was beginning to pant. “Yes, Sir. Whatever you want to give them.”

Suddenly, his hand was gone and the General stepped away. The way she looked at this moment made him wish he’d found her earlier in the day and dragged her into a storage closet. Her shoulder length hair dangled in lazy curls, mussed from his attentions. Dressed in her Class As, she always made him hard, but with her skirt bunched up and her legs spread it took everything he had not to push her underwear aside and just take her hard against the wall, his knee be damned. Two weeks. Two weeks and an eternity.

“I’m a fool. I took you out to dinner when I could have been eating you, instead,” the General mused.

Sam let out an impatient whimper, running her hands up and down her thighs, clenching and unclenching. She knew she wouldn’t be allowed to touch herself in a relieving way until the General gave her permission.

“I eat in the kitchen,” and he took her hand, leading Sam through the wide archway. A setting for six stood between them and the counters. “On the table,” the General told her.

Sam hurried to obey, pulling herself up on the end where the General pulled out a chair. He stood in front of her, spreading her legs apart, slowly caressing with both hands from knee to underwear. His thumbs met over her soaked and swollen lips and hovered there.

“Unbutton me,” the General told her, and she eagerly reached for him with fingers that competently deconstructed alien artefacts and built Naquadah generators. It was short work for Colonel Carter to have his jacket open.

“Now, yours.”

“Yes, Sir,” Sam replied, her voice tentative and this time there was the slightest tremor in her hands as she worked each button.

His hand closed around her wrist as the last button was freed and he brought her hand close, kissing the palm, then the mount of Venus and then pressed his lips to the pulse point in her wrist. “So eager, Samantha,” the General murmured, breath brushing her skin.

With a sudden movement, his hand wrapped around the back of her neck and the General crashed his mouth to hers, tongue delving and straining deep into her mouth. Sam moaned and the General swallowed the sound and, for one uncontrolled moment when she touched his waist, he pushed his straining erection into her, hard.

Taking a step back, his thighs touched the chair and the General removed his jacket, tossing it over another chair. “Now yours,” he told Sam, his eyes dark, and helped slide it from her shoulders, tossing it on top of his. Without warning, his hands were on her breasts, squeezing and pinching, despite the fabric in between, and then his mouth was seeking her nipples, biting down.

“Sir!” The cry was torn from Sam’s mouth and his fingers found her underwear, pushing the fabric aside and sliding in to her wet heat. Stroking her hard until all Sam was rocking forcefully in return, the General was gone from her body as suddenly as he had entered it, mouth and fingers withdrawn, leaving her clenching around empty air.

“Blouse off,” he growled, hooking his fingers into the waist of Sam’s underwear and working it out from under her ass and then down her legs. More gently, he grasped each of her ankles in turn, baring each of her feet. Cupping her calves, squeezing and digging fingers into the muscles, the General’s eyes fixed on Sam’s exposed chest.

“All day, all through dinner, I’ve wanted you to undress for me.” He raised a finger to the creamy skin visible above the cup of her bra, flushed from his mouth and hands, and followed the line it made to the dip in the centre of her chest. “I’m going to make you come, Samantha and then I’m going to tease you until you beg me to fuck you any way I want.”

Sam rolled her hips, searching for stimulation, her legs held immobile in the General’s hands. “Make me come, please Sir. I need to come. I’ve needed it all day.”

The General smiled, his lips parted in a predatory gesture. “Since you saw me, Colonel?” And he sat down in the chair, pulling it closer to the table.

“Before, Sir. I’ve watched you for a long time, waited for you to notice me, to want me.” Leaning back as Jack cupped her ass and pulled her hips closer, Sam rested on her hands.

“So have I,” he replied and leaned in close, making one long swipe with his tongue from her anus to the very top of her vulva. When Sam whimpered and her legs quivered, General O’Neill wrapped an arm around each of her thighs, holding her securely. “Tell me, Colonel, what you’ve wanted me to do to you.”

“Fuck me, on your desk, Sir, in the Pentagon.” The last word was a squeak as the General pressed his mouth to the folds between her legs and began to lick in earnest. There was no holding back, General O’Neill was a man who believed in doing a job right.

When he paused, lifting his eyes to the Colonel, she stumbled and went on. “You f-finding me, in the hallway, making me go in a closet with you and - ohhh - get on my knees and suck you.”

Rewarding her, the General nipped at her sensitive lips, making her buck, nearly bouncing her backside off the table. “Sir, oh god, I want you. I want you to visit the _Phoenix_ , and screw me in the Captain’s chair until I scream.”

That made the General pause and he looked up at her. “Really, Colonel. That would be a violation of so many regulations.”

“I know, Sir. Then you would have to discipline me so I wouldn’t do it again.” Sam met his eyes and saw a hard flash pass over his eyes.

“Colonel, that would require serious discipline. Maybe I would have to take you to the engine room and fuck your tight behind to teach you a lesson.”

Sam’s eyes trailed down his chest and fixed on the front of his pants. Visibly hard, she let her eyes grow wide in wonder. “Sir! That would be a most serious punishment.”

He had to pause for a moment, the straining of his cock too much to bear. Sometimes, Sam’s brilliant mind made it so hard for him to keep control. “You’re a treasure, Colonel, no doubt.”

That made Sam smile at him, pleased by his praise. “Glad that you think so, Sir. Maybe you should visit me in Arizona. Once we have the Asgard beaming tech working.”

“Colonel,” he growled into her groin, “That’s a certainty.” The General returned hungrily to the delicacy before him, his tongue and fingers working Colonel Carter quickly to the brink.

Sam fell back on her elbows and, by the spasms under his tongue and her gorgeous moans, the Colonel knew she was close. “I want you to come now, Colonel. Flood my mouth.”

“Sir, yes, I’m going to - oh there - going to ... Sir!” And then the General unleashed powerful waves that crashed through her over and over. He kept working his tongue inside her, rubbing above the hood of her clit, drawing out her pleasure. More than once she eased, gasping for air, before another shudder shook her, the aftershocks nearly as strong as an orgasm.

When Sam lay back on the table, panting, hands fluttering helplessly, the Genteral stood, sliding his hands under her shoulders and pulled her into his lap, holding her against him. Stirring finally, she pulled her feet up, tucking her toes into the space between his behind and the back of the chair.

“You made it the whole two weeks?” Jack asked her.

A soft chuckle preceded her reply. “For you, I did.”

“No wonder you didn’t just want to go to bed. Worth it?” He kissed her hair, her forehead, anywhere his lips could reach.

“Every fucking frustrating minute.”

The passion in his sudden kiss surprised her and told her how much Jack was proud of her effort. “My Sam. My incredible Sam.”

“Sir,” she breathed into his neck, the single word loaded with love and affection and promises as binding as vows.

“Ready?” He whispered to her.

“Yes, Sir.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Now it’s my turn, Samantha. What should I do with you?” The General’s fingers lightly traced the valleys either side of her spine, descending to circle on her backside and raising goosebumps as they glided to the back of her bra.

“You’re overdressed, Sir.” Sam cupped his tie, running it through her hands. “May I help you?”

The General’s fingers paused in their travels, a fingertip brushing along the line of her bra across her back. “Very well. Do your best.”

Sam reached for the knot of his tie and squirmed a little closer to the General’s waist. Arousal was returning and if she lightly rocked her hips in this position, the hard bulge in his pants made a pleasant rub.

The General allowed her movements, sliding his fingers under the edge of her bra elastic, scraping at the sensitised skin. Sam slid his tie from its knot, reaching for the first of the buttons on his dress shirt. The button released, she traced fingertips over his exposed neck and her rocking became more insistent.

“Be still,” he ordered as he pulled and snapped the elastic against her back. With a surprised gasp, her hips froze, fingers resting on the skin of his throat. “Think I didn’t notice you rubbing yourself against me, Colonel? From now on, your hips only move if I tell them to.”

Against the clench of her inner muscles, Sam tried to keep her voice even. “Yes, Sir. May I?” And her fingers shifted to the next button on his shirt.

“You may,” he granted. When Sam held her lower body still as ordered, the General fingered the hooks holding her bra closed and released them. Hands pressed flat over the planes of her back, he caressed the newly exposed skin as Sam moved on to button number three.

Intentionally, Sam fumbled at the buttons, her fingers grazing the General’s skin, touching sometimes lightly or dragging. After the third button, such touches were more difficult with his chest protected by his undershirt.

Eyes on her fingers, the General slid the bra straps from her shoulders, fingers brushing over skin all the way to her wrists, then over the backs of her hands. “Left,” he told her, sliding the strap free on her left, then “Right. Good, Colonel,” he hummed approvingly.

Sam instinctively leaned in to his chest, but the General met her move and held her in place as he circled her nipples, first with fingertips, moving to thumbs. When she reached the second last exposed button, he pinched down hard, rolling the tight, pink nubs between his fingertips until they turned a deep red. Sam strained under the touch, both wanting to press harder into the pain and wanting to escape it. “Sir ...” she moaned, voice strained, unsure which option she was begging for.

He stopped and Sam’s hands trembled as the General lifted one nipple to his mouth and gently laved it, then sucked it slowly into his mouth, touch gentle and warm and soothing.

Closing her eyes for a moment, Sam floated in the sensation. With steadier hands, she returned to the last button and then tugged the remaining shirt tails free. Changing sides, the General paid the same gentle attention to her other breast. Her chest soothed, Sam was facing another problem - the building heat between her lower lips.

Boldly, she pressed her hands into the fabric covering the Generals stomach and slid her hands around until they were behind him, pulling the shirt completely free. Moving to his left wrist, she attempted to remove the cuff link but just as her fingers touched the metal, the General sucked hard, trapping her nipple against the roof of his mouth.

A surge passed through her, overwhelming and making Sam cry out loud. The tension on her breast relaxed and she tried for the cuff link a second time. Again, arousal wreaked havoc on her coordination as General O’Neill dragged his teeth over her hard nub and this time she was unable to control the sharp twist of her hips as her body sought stimulation to ground the overheated need.

“Sir, Sir, please stop. I can’t ...” Single minded, Sam was still trying to remove the cuff link.

Fingers trailed downward, the General’s hands coming to rest on her upper thighs. Leaning close, his undershirt rubbing against her nipples, he spoke into her ear. “You don’t really want me to stop, do you, Samantha?”

“Just for a moment, Sir. I need to - _ahh_ \- finish. With. Your shirt.” Speech became orders of magnitude more complex with the General’s thumbs pressed firmly into her inner thighs, sliding up to her curls and then away on a sensual loop.

“I’m not stopping you,” he rasped. “Come on, Samantha. To get what you want, don’t I need my clothes off?”

Infuriating and dead sexy seemed to be how Sam liked her men. Again she attempted to remove the cuff link, succeeding with the first. The second took all her concentration as the General grazed his thumbnails over her outer lips, brushing through her curls.

“Aha!” Sam cried in triumph, the sound quickly obliterated by a moan when he spread her lips apart with his thumbs. Pulling her knees wider in response, she added to the pleasant stretch of inner tissues.

“Your determination impresses me. Task prioritisation, objective focused, production efficiency ...” When Sam giggled at his executive speak, he gave her inner thigh a playful slap. “No giggling, Colonel.”

Sam pressed her lips together and tried not let a smile show in her eyes. With a moment to compose herself, she grasped his undershirt by the front and dragged it free from the General’s pants. “You have a great command of operational terms, Sir. Very impressive.” Leaning in close, she reached around him, pulling the back free, sliding her hands over his bare skin and pushing the fabric upwards.

“You know what else I have command of, Colonel? You.” His lips brushed over the outside of her ear before he whispered, “Freeze.”

Damn him, just when she was having a little fun teasing.

“Stand up, Colonel,” he continued, waiting until she’d worked backwards off his thighs and stood before him, her bottom pressing into the table. The General pushed his chair back and stood, letting his formal shirt fall to the floor and tugging his undershirt over his head as he walked to the refrigerator. Sam followed him with her eyes until he caught her. “At attention, Colonel.”

Eyes raised to the horizon, Sam heard him open the fridge, rattle bottles and plastic and the door closed with a snick of air. There was the sound of fabric rustling, a soft thump of something, probably his shoes, hitting the floor. Without making a sound, the General stood in front of her again, barefoot, gorgeously bare chested, with a bottle of water in each hand.

“Would you like some, Colonel?” He asked holding out the bottle to her.

“If you think so, Sir,” she replied, maintaining her stance.

He stepped closer, the warmth of his body caressing her skin. Quietly, but no less commanding, he said, “Spread your legs.” Sam complied, moving her feet shoulder width apart. “Further.” She readjusted her feet at his direction.

Reaching past her, the General placed one bottle down on the table. The other, he pressed between her legs against her hot, swollen lips.

Sam’s knees shook, nearly buckled and she cried out. “Holy _fuck_!” As much as she had been anticipating it, the abrupt change in sensation had her reeling.

The bottle rolled away down her thigh, eliciting shivers, and then the General’s other hand was cupping her sex, warm, comforting, possessive. It was a struggle to keep her face raised at the proper angle but she gave in a little and let her eyes close, a sense of rightness enfolding her.

His body shifted towards her, his hand remaining in place. “That would be ‘holy fuck, _Sir_.’”

“Sir,” Sam responded, the same adoration and love pouring from her as when Jack had cradled her on his lap.

The cold bottle was removed from her thigh and cool air wafted past her hip as he placed the second bottle on the table. “Samantha, look at me.”

Doing as he ordered, Sam found his eyes just a few inches from her own. His face was the General but his eyes were Jack and it was Jack who kissed her, filling her mouth with his love and passion and making her knees want to buckle all over again. The hand between her legs offered support and then began a slow teasing movement of one fingertip moving through her folds.

“I can’t get enough of you,” Jack said, his eyes boring into hers. Then a subtle shift as he slipped back into role. “It’s time, Colonel. You still have work to do.”

It was more than time. As the General continued to stroke her, she undid his belt, then his fly. A second finger joined the first as she pushed at the waist, letting them fall and then worked the loose cotton boxers over his erection, dragging them down as far as she could.

Without interrupting his rhythm, the General stepped out of both articles of clothing, pushing them casually away with his foot. He closed the last of the distance between them, letting the head of his cock brush against her stomach, leaving behind a trail of precum. Inside her, the General spread his fingers, eliciting a moan of desire.

“Well done, Colonel.” His teeth nipped at her earlobe, her neck and then firmly into her shoulder, leaving an imprint, but not hard enough to bruise, all the while his fingers stretching and stroking. When Sam’s breathing became erratic, the General spoke again. “Upstairs, on the bed. No touching yourself and you will wait for me.”

“Yes, Sir,” Sam answered, waiting.

“Dismissed.” And he stepped back and turned abruptly away leaving her inner muscles clutching after him.

Sam waited a moment, breathing slowly before striding away and heading upstairs. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for hanging about waiting for the final instalment! I hope you all enjoy it as much as Sam and Jack did.
> 
> <3

Knees wobbling as she ascended the stairs, Sam found the master bedroom easily enough, the door to it already open at the top of the stairs. The light from the landing was just enough to help find the bed and she thought through the General’s instructions. _On the bed,_ he had told her, but not the position that she should take.

A look back to the doorway and Sam could see the top of the stairs. With a smirk, she lay across the bed stomach first, arms stretched above her head, her legs spread wide over the edge of the mattress, toes braced on the floor. Imagining how it would look to the General, a shiver ran down her spine.

She heard movement downstairs and then the flick of light switches. There was a creak from the stairs and then another as he reached the landing. Sam held her breath, waiting for the General’s reaction, but ... nothing. Whisper quiet he passed her by and turned on the light in the ensuite, sliding the door closed. Her inner muscles clenched in disappointment and Sam squirmed attempting to ease them.

Had she done something wrong? Sam cast her mind back over the General’s instructions and couldn’t find fault with how she had carried them out. The sound of the shower running came to her ears and her disappointment became frustration.

He’d brought her here and ordered her to lay herself out on his bed and now he was ignoring her? For a heated moment, Sam wanted to grind into the bed, and stroke herself with her fingers. It’d be fair revenge for teasing her all day if she came without him.

Then Sam whimpered. She didn’t really want to come without him. What she wanted, needed, was for him to fill her with that hard cock and make her moan and scream while she orgasmed again and again. The thought had her so wet that her arousal must started to soak into the bed.

Whimpering as she fantasised about the General gripping her hips and taking her hard, Sam missed the shower turning off. Her mind disappeared into fantasies of how the General might use her, might fill her and leave her satisfied and sore. Her whimpers became sighs of imagined pleasure.

A finger caressing her palm brought her back to the darkened bedroom with a gasp.

“Samantha,” the General said, touch climbing up her forearm, raising goosebumps as it went. “Such beautiful noises. What could you have been thinking about?”

“You, Sir,” she breathed. “You ... filling me, Sir.”

“Filling you? How?” He wondered, fingers running through her hair removing the tangles.

“Inside me, Sir.” Sam fumbled with the words, reluctant to slip into profanity.

The General gathered her hair at the nape of her neck and gently twisted it into ponytail, aligning it with Sam’s spine. “In your mouth?”

Sam shook her head slightly.

“In your ass?” The General asked.

The idea made her muscles clench, but Sam shook her head again. She was kinky, yes, but when it came down to it, Samantha Carter just loved dick, one particular dick, and it had been too long since she had felt it. “I want you, Sir,” she whispered.

“Fucking you?” He asked.

“Yes, Sir,” Sam agreed, shivering again.

The General ran both hands over her shoulders and back down her arms. “Do I need to tie you down, or will you obey my order to keep your arms like this?”

“I ... I can, Sir. I’ll do whatever you tell me.”

“Such a good Officer,” the General said, bending to kiss her hair before walking around the bed and standing behind her. “Did you touch yourself?”

“No, Sir. You ordered me not to, Sir.” It took all Sam’s will to keep her hips still, knowing that his eyes were seeing her spread wide for him, arousal soaking the sheets.

“Good Officers get rewards,” The General told her. “I think you deserve a bonus.”

Anticipation made her rise up on her toes. “A reward, Sir?” Gods, she wished he would touch her. That first orgasm had barely taken the edge off.

There was a soft scrape of plastic and a moment later a tube or bottle of something landed beside her on the bed. Sam held still, resisting the urge to look and see what it was, the moment’s distraction drawing her attention away.

Pressing into her folds, the hot, hard head of the penis she longed for made her moan in surprise. “Sir,” Sam breathed, as he teased her, rubbing between her folds, then over her clit and then pushing between cheeks, the thick head catching on her anus.

“I know what a good Officer wants as a reward,” he told her, teasing once more and then pressing slowly into her opening.

Sam sucked on her bottom lip as he began to enter her. When he paused, she realised he was waiting for a response, “What will you give me, Sir?”

In answer, she felt him part her cheeks and circle her anus. Then he began rubbing over her hole, working at the muscle, a faint coolness on the surrounding skin from the lube he must have palmed before entering her.

“I wouldn’t want to leave you wanting, Colonel. It’s my job to fulfil all your needs.” With a small thrust, he filled her completely and then pushed the tip of his thumb inside her.

Sam arched away for a moment and then moaned eagerly, bearing back towards the touch. “I have so many needs, Sir.”

Beginning to work his cock back and forth, he sunk his thumb all the way inside her, moving to grip her hip with his free hand. “Do you need me to fuck you hard, Colonel?”

She felt full of him, but Sam wanted more. Contracting around him, she nodded eagerly, “Yes, Sir.”

“Ask me properly, Samantha,” The General ordered.

Pressing her face against the sheets, Sam summoned her courage, driven to desperation by the stimulation that wasn’t quite enough. “Fuck me, Sir. Fuck me hard.”

Thrusting deep, the General pulled her into him with the grip on her hip. “Like this?”

“Harder, Sir,” Sam asked, hands grasping at the edge of the bed.

“You can’t handle all I have to give you, Colonel,” The General remarked, pulling almost all the way out and then burying himself in her again.

“I can, Sir!” Sam found herself raising her face off the bed. “I _need_ it, Sir, I need _you_.”

His rhythm faltered as her words went straight to his cock. This woman, how she possessed him ... “That’s right, Carter, you need me. Need my cock.”

Sam felt the orgasm rising up her thighs, making her tighten, beginning to pull her taut against him. “I need _you_ , Sir. I need to feel you.” The last sentence came out strangled, almost a sob.

The General leaned over her body, reaching for Sam’s hair, winding it around his hand and sliding his fingers against her scalp until he held her, tight and firm. Increasing the pace until the slap and slick wet sounds filled the room, Jack pressed his face against her shoulder.

“I’m yours,” he growled. “Yours always. Forever. Only yours.”

As his teeth found purchase in her flesh, Sam arched under him, white hot fire burning through her as she came. Jack pulled a little tighter on her hair, sucking at her skin as she rode through one orgasm and into another, hips writhing. “ _Yours, yours, yours_ ,” she chanted and Jack shuddered as his balls tightened and he came so hard that his vision blanked out.

He lay above her, both of them panting, slick with sweat and lube and come. Stiff and sore, he slid the thumb out of her behind, flexing his muscles before bracing his forearm on the sheets beside her.

“Fuck,” he murmured into her neck, kissing and nibbling, tasting her skin.

Sam laughed softly under him, riding the euphoria, her cheeks wet with overwhelmed tears. “Good?” She wondered coyly.

Unwinding her hair from around his hand, Jack continued exploring her skin as he eased backward. “Two weeks is too long. I lost it at the end there.”

“Mmhmm,” she agreed, cheeky and proud.

That earned her a slap on the ass. “The General is not pleased.”

“The Colonel will take whatever punishment he deems appropriate.”

Jack snorted as he retrieved towels, turning the ensuite light back on. Sam let him gently clean and dry her before getting off the bed and making use of the bathroom.

She returned to find the covers turned down and her naked husband waiting for her with an arm stretched under her pillow. “You’re not going to tell me what my punishment is?” She asked, sliding into bed.

“Disciplinary meeting, 0700,” he responded.

“0800?” Sam asked, snuggling into his side. “I’ve been awake since before dawn.”

“Perhaps getting up early is the punishment,” Jack replied, reaching for a bottle of water, no longer cold, and handing it to her.

“I think the General is more creative than that,” Sam observed.

“Hmmm. Perhaps.” Running his hand through her hair, Jack let the feel of Sam, her smell, the memory of her taste fill his senses.

Sam finished her water, leaned back to drop it on the floor and ran her hand over Jack’s chest. “Thank you,” she told him, examining his face. “Everything alright?”

“Everything’s perfect,” Jack told her, cupping her cheek. “Everything I want is right here.”

Meeting his lips, Sam lingered against Jack’s tender kiss, their love threatening to overwhelm her again. Closing her eyes, she tucked herself into his shoulder, hand feeling the slow rise and fall of his chest.

_Everything. All she wanted, right here._


End file.
